Wolfseule is no tree-hugger, she hugs only power-poles and embraces the possibilities they give to us (up to the point of suffocating them). This actually not-so-holy mass for electricity is celebrated with 7/4 rhythms, lots of obnoxiousness, and total musical anarchy. Handle it like every ritualized process: don’t start thinking about the point of it all. There is none, and also absolutely no point to tell you that. It would be just awkward, like your little sisters new boyfriend at family-dinner, wondering, if he should tell the daddy, that he has a pea sticking just above his eyebrow. Anything else important you need to know? Oh, yes: my back-lit keyboard DOES glow brighter than your lover’s eyes (that applies to everyone).

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